Isaac did not much like breakfasts anymore. Well, he liked them perfectly fine, what he didn't like was being surrounded by peers who knew he'd dropped the ball so hard it broke the metaphorical floor and had to stay back a year. Of course, the embarrassment wasn't so bad when met by the fact that his parents had all but totally backed off out of nowhere and left him entirely to his own unsure devices. But, you know, breakfast wasn't too bad if he could keep all that from floating gracefully to the forefront of his cranium and terrorizing him into staring void-like at his eggs and toast.

Today, that wasn't much of an issue because apparently he hadn't ingested nearly enough food and his stomach was in a mexican standoff with itself, threatening to eat through his own body if he didn't feed it. So, he had toast, with eggs, with sausage, and bacon, and a waffle, all piled into one glorious and almost gross tower of breakfasty goodness that he was currently shoving into his mouth. It was one whole mess of flavor but he didn't mind- boy mighta' been raised on the best of the best but he was humble, y'see, and besides- Hogwarts food was delicious.

Steadily, he drove away those that sat with him or near him for his entertaining monologues in which he roasted peer or teacher, no one safe, because he wasn't doing much talking and instead was only consuming. So far, his acquaintances he had made through the years had been distant. Isaac, ever the optimist, decided not to think on his and chalked it up to busy schedules and different class times. But in reality, he didn't want to think about the absence, and what it could mean. Instead, he focused on his breakfast tower and little else, attempting not to slop yolk or ketchup or grease onto his uniform. He was classy, y'see.

Well, he had been classy up until he saw Petra Connor- yes, folks, the Petra Connor- striding towards him with her usual grace, and boy howdy, the boy foresaw his own demise for a moment. Before thinking, he began to shove more food in his face, his actions baring strong similarities to a dog who has been caught with it's head in the trash can and is going for broke trying to get away with as much as possible before it is stopped. However, that doesn't quite work when you are a semi-adult sentient human capable of communicating your own means and running away like you've stolen something won't quite do the trick.

So, he swallowed painfully, spluttered and coughed while smacking his fist into his chest as it stung from inhaling too much food at once, and rasped, "Hey honey bunny, what can a classy gent like myself do for you?" Followed by a somewhat pained but still winning smile!

The one thing about Hogwarts, that Petra wasn't so thrilled about, was that news traveled fast. Though the young blonde only wasn't so thrilled about it when the gossip was about her. Other times she found that it was useful for keeping up with the current gossip, drama, and scandal that was happening in the halls of Hogwarts.

It so happens while sitting in the Slytherin common room reading a book for leisure. The Slytherin heard the most interesting scandal. And it wasn't the good interesting. How could Isaac have failed his sixth year? Thinking back, she was certain that her friend had told her that he was keeping up with all his homework when she asked. She had only asked because she had noticed he was partying way too much and she wasn't sure when he had found time to study. But he had assured her that he was indeed keeping up with his school work and he was passing everything. The Slytherin princess dropped it because why would he lie to her about that.

Sliding a bookmark in her book, the young girl gracefully got up from her seat. Nothing seemed to be amiss with the girl, though she did have an unnatural smile that could send chills into anyone who looked at her. "Excuse me." Her voice was soft, but her fellow housemates made an opening for her to walk through while still talking. Her heels clicked against the stone floor as she made her way to the Great Hall. She knew that he would be there, eating breakfast.

In the sea of students, Petra found Isaac's familiar blonde hair all too easily. And he seemed to notice her presence as well. She only smiled at him as she walked towards him. Yes, a storm was coming but it would be calm since the girl wasn't one to make a spectacle of herself. "Don't honey bunny me." Her voice, a sickly sweet, whispered to the boy before sitting down across of him. Ignoring the glances of other Hufflepuffs who were wondering why a snake was sitting at their table. "So do you have anything to tell me?" She asked, grabbing a plate and pilling it with breakfast, glancing up at him up often to study him. Seeing if he would tell her or not. "Cause I heard the most interesting thing today. And I'm dying to share it with you." The blonde added as she began to butter the biscuit that was in her hand.

She was smiling. He was dead, so dead, so very dead. If he had ever felt this level of impending doom before, he was unaware of it now, and therefor he smiled nice and bright: the winning kind of smile that usually won people over. However, Petra was much better at him at the politics game. They'd both been shrouded in pureblood values from childhood, so he knew as well as she did that she could most likely talk circles around him.

He watched, smiling stupidly, as she began to daintily load her plate with breakfast items. As she did, she prompted him, and he ran his hand through his hair as he was wont to do, pushing it back into it's characteristically messy settling place. "Well..." He trailed off, trying to summon the nerve to break the news to her. However, Isaac was not a brave individual, and he had a perpetual habit of making jokes when the situation didn't call for them, and so instead of admitting his error, he replied, "Martin gained six pounds over the summer, I don't really know how, I think he's too fat to catch birds or mice." Ah yes, because the weight of his cat was something that had hooked Petra's interest so violently.

Yet, Isaac was one to know when he had messed up. His expression caved slightly, smile becoming a grimace, the joy no longer reaching his eyes. "... And I failed sixth year," He added, quieter, looking down at his mountaneous stack of food that no longer looked appetizing. He ran his fingers over the half-sleeve tattoo he had on his right forearm idly and sighed. "... And I know you're mad because I said I was keeping up with my homework- and I was- I just... wasn't doing it well,"

Something big and ominous weighed on his chest, uncomfortably tugging at the soft, scared pieces he kept locked safely in his ribcage. He licked his lips, tried to end the feeling, but it was rising hot all the way to his throat. To comfort himself, he thought of his galleons and galleons worth of race winnings kept safely in his private account at Gringotts, and the bag that he kept here for spending money. For getaway money. The feeling settled, but he remained downcast, his lashes long and covering the bits of his hazel eyes visible. Finally, he murmured, "I'm sorry," and quickly followed it with- "but at least we're in the same year and now you get to see me in classes and pick on me like equals," It was phrased like a question, with an upwards infliction as he slowly raised his hands in a weak finger-guns gesture towards her, a creeping smile tugging his lips and creasing the corners of his eyes.

The feeling tugging his chest was winding down. Faking it till he made it had always been his best strategy, after all.

Petra chewed slowly as she listened to her friend talk about trivial things. Her eyes never left his as he began to talk about his cat. She smiled and nodded but her smile never reached her eyes. She was furious at the boy and he was avoiding telling her what she wanted to know. And why would she want to hear about his cat at the current moment. At any other time, she would have found the story endearing and comical.

Petra watched as the boy slowly caved, the forced joy he was pretending to wear was fading. He was finally telling her what she wanted to hear that he failed and he lied to her. To her! That wasn't something that she could forgive but he was lucky she was merciful. She watched him, her eyes taking in everything, as she cut into her pancakes. How his fingers ran over his arm, a nervous habit of his that she had noticed from all the years of knowing him. Her fork sink into a piece of syrupy goodness, bringing it to her mouth.

A frowned formed on his lips as he mentioned them being in the same year now. She was not selfish enough to wish this or even celebrate this turn of events. He just wasted a year with partying and ignoring his school work. "In what world would I ever be pleased with this?" She asked, her voice was low but she knew he could hear her. "Why would you think I would be happy to have the same classes with you? You just wasted a year for what? And you want me to be selfish now and celebrate?" She questioned him. The funny thing was that she was a little happy that they were in the same year now. To sit next to him in classes and laugh at silly things together. She was actually looking forward to it, but that felt like she was condoning him for his actions.

Then she sighed, knowing that her anger was probably not helping. She didn't know why he neglected his studies and why he chose to party over school. That wasn't like him. He was never the best student, but he was decent and kept up with everything. "What happen?" She finally asked. "Why did you lie about doing your school work?" She couldn't think of any reason and she felt she was missing something to this whole tale. She just wasn't sure what. "I would have helped you study."

The hesitant smile he had put on was threatening to crumble off of his face, and so he reached up to fiddle with his hair in order to distract himself. "It's not being selfish, Petra," He replied, his brows knitting. "It's... Making the best of a bad situation. Silver linings, you know? I'm not saying you should throw a 'Isaac-fucked-up-ball' I just mean that, y'know, at least something kind of good came out of it?" His voice took a slightly petulant turn somewhere in there, but it quickly melted into something cautiously optimistic; he was trying to make her see it wasn't all bad. More importantly, he was trying to make himself feel like it wasn't the end of the world. Most of the time, it really felt like it would be the end.

He watched students talking amicably, and wondered how it was that they didn't have this sinking-wrenching feeling in their chests. Isaac chewed his lip as everyone else talked and spoke and went about their business like there was nothing wrong. Like he hadn't plummeted from his plateau and fell to the brush below.

Then, Petra asked the question he couldn't answer. What happened? All at once, he felt far away. The sensation of his arms on the table and his leg bouncing from nerves were all detached, as though he had stepped outside himself, as though he was watching someone else pilot his own body. Isaac tried to pull himself back, but he felt like he was moving through muddy water, every action took two times the amount of effort it actually required. After a long moment, he replied; "I don't know,"

Isaac crossed his arms, pushing his plate of food forward in the process, and he leaned into them a little. "I know you would have, but you have your own shit to do, and besides- I clearly had a fun time blowing everything off." He offered a jaded kind of smile there, the kind that meant someone had found the tiny barbed parts of him that stung. "It's alright, Petra, I'm not failing it again. I'm going to pass. I've been working my ass off. My lowest grade is an A."